


Good Jeans

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [142]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-21
Updated: 2009-05-21
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Denim delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Jeans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katbear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katbear/gifts).



> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> Thanks to Carol for her 'wedding in New York' idea in Sun and Laughter.
> 
> Ian's 'disdainful sniff' was inspired by Alex's magnificent Julien Sorel.
> 
> For Inya and katbear.

Quinn's mouth dropped open.  
  
Ian sauntered into the bedroom, wearing one of Quinn's shrunken t-shirts and his 'fuck me' jeans from college. Spotting his quarry sitting on the bed, he stalked over to Quinn ever so slowly, hips swaying. Quinn could see every curve of his hips and rear, the thoroughbred lines of his legs, the bulge at his crotch, which seemed to grow with each step.  
  
And the grin on his face -- so mischievous, so arousing. Quinn could not look away.  
  
"Say hello to your new roommate, handsome. Just transferred over from Georgeton." Ian stopped when he had pushed between Quinn's legs, standing motionless, waiting for Quinn's first move.  
  
Quinn tensed his thighs, jeans rubbing against Ian's. "A pleasure to meet you."  
  
"I can see that, hot stuff." Ian's grin grew as he stared at the straining denim below him.  
  
Quinn chuckled. "Something you want?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Ian ran his tongue over his bottom lip suggestively.  
  
Quinn envied that tongue, that lip. "So impetuous," he murmured.  
  
"Uh-huh," Ian agreed as his prize kept growing under his avid gaze.  
  
Quinn pulled Ian to him by the backs of his thighs, stroking up and down his legs with proprietary firmness. "Such a tease," he growled. An occasional finger whispered over the join of legs and buttocks.  
  
Ian shivered. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"  
  
Quinn pounced so quickly Ian could almost believe it was Force-enhanced. "I'll show you." He practically levitated off the bed and onto Ian, kissing him with single-minded ferocity. His thorough kiss left Ian gasping, and his hips were drawn to Ian's as if they were a missing part of himself.  
  
Quinn's big hands petted Ian's shirt, the fabric soft and thin from washing. "Poaching m'shirts already? Didn't they teach you manners at Georgeton?"  
  
"I don't take gut courses," Ian sniffed disdainfully.  
  
"Is that so?" Quinn tsked. "What you need is to be taken in hand, m'boy." His hands slid down to grab Ian's backside.  
  
"Yes, Master," Ian's breath stuttered as Quinn's hands squeezed his cheeks.  
  
Quinn stood up, towering over Ian. "Down on the bed." Quinn's stern tone matched the cock boring into Ian's stomach. Turning them both effortlessly, he gave Ian a push.  
  
Ian sprawled on the sheet, looking at Quinn staring down at him, a predator now, thanks to his teasing. He swallowed his next quip, feeling goosebumps break out all over his skin.  
  
"I believe you nicked something of mine," Quinn said in his best no-nonsense voice, honed by years of teaching.  
  
Ian nodded, knowing better than to sass back now.  
  
"I'm going to take it back --" Quinn paused, "with interest."  
  
Ian's eyes widened when Quinn knelt between his legs and eased big hands under the t-shirt. Up the shirt went, while Ian wriggled under callused palms, cock butting against his zipper. He hugged his arms to his sides, trying to prolong Quinn's rough caresses, but Quinn was having none of it.  
  
Quinn's smile brought a droplet of pre-come to Ian's tip. "None of that, mo chara." ('my friend' in Gaelic) Ian's wrists vanished under Quinn's hands as Quinn raised them to the pillow.  
  
Ian arched his hips; the jeans, already too tight, felt like a tourniquet. "Touch me!" he almost yelled.  
  
Quinn saw it all -- the rebellious light in Ian's eyes, the not-quite-reluctant compliance, the mischief that was part of Ian's DNA -- and it went straight to his cock. Pre-come painted his underwear in a Rorschach blot that would never reveal its secrets unless Quinn managed not to come in his pants. Which one of them needed to come more was truly an academic question.  
  
Ian wiggled when Quinn broke his stare and started on his shirt again. Greedy fingers spread to touch as much of Ian as they could reach, lingering over his ribs and nipples. He didn't need to be prodded to sit up, letting Quinn pull the shirt off him in one smooth move.  
  
Quinn took one look at Ian's hair -- tousled already, and now totally wild -- and tackled him back to the bed. He savored the silk of Ian's skin even through his own shirt, letting the cotton caress Ian's needy flesh, aching from the loss of Quinn's touch.  
  
Ian kept his arms above his head, knowing he made the right decision when Quinn gave him a slow smile.  
  
Quinn nipped and nosed the succulent chest under him, hearing Ian's cries through a haze of lust. Nuzzling ever lower, he made sure to lick the sweet spot below Ian's left rib into heaven.  
  
By now, Ian was ready to rip his jeans with the force of his erection. "Quinn!" With one word, he managed to beg, cajole, and insist.  
  
Quinn looked up at him, eyes alight. "What can I do for you, m'boy?" He swiped his tongue over a mole on Ian's hip.  
  
"Suck me!" Ian gasped.  
  
Quinn lived for the desperation in that beloved voice. He mouthed Ian's cock through his jeans, savoring his pre-come, his saliva blending nicely to make a tasty splotch on the almost-white denim.  
  
Ian bucked his hips helplessly. He wailed, words deserting him completely.  
  
"That's right. Show me how much you like it." Quinn's growl was deepening along with the color of his eyes. He had to hold Ian's hips down to unzip him. He knew what he would see -- even his ingenious laddie couldn't find a way to fit boxer-briefs under the straining denim.  
  
Tooth by tooth. Ian nearly screamed. Why did he never think of this before dressing up for Quinn? One big hand protected him, as Quinn was born to do, keeping his tender skin from the bite of metal. Finally, he was free.  
  
Quinn looked down at his prize. Framed by copper curls, wet with anticipation, straining towards his lips. Literally mouth-watering. Just what he needed to forget about his own discomfort, what with underwear clinging to his cock, irritating the head with its wetness.  
  
He wanted all of his focus on Ian now. He nuzzled the tip with his cheek, chuckling at Ian's impatient 'Fuck!' "We're getting there, y'rascal. No worries."  
  
Ian butted him, trying to get Quinn to take him in his mouth. His sigh of relief when it worked earned another chuckle from Quinn, which vibrated over his cock deliciously.  
  
Ian had waited long enough. Quinn rewarded him with little nibbles up his shaft, luscious licks along the underside, luxurious suckles on the glans. His fingers played with Ian's testicles, petting them with just the firm touch Ian loved.  
  
Ian's thrusts came faster and faster; the sounds he made, little and not so little, left his throat dry.  
  
But they spurred Quinn on. When he teased the edge of the retracted foreskin with the pad of his forefinger, that was it. Cream flooded his mouth in spurts, and he managed to swallow most of it. He grinned up at Ian as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  
  
Roleplay was forgotten when Ian saw the love sparkling in Quinn's eyes. "C'mere," he said, voice scratchy. Ian pulled him up by the arms, needing to feel his weight on top of him. He kissed him sweetly, nuzzling his cheek. "Thank you, ma guid-man." (my husband; my master)  
  
"You're welcome, laddie." Quinn's still-clothed erection poked Ian's inner thigh in a polite request for attention.  
  
Ian smiled when he felt it. "Your turn." He soon discovered his 'fuck me' jeans were aptly named.  
  
Quinn gave him an indescribable look, in which hunger was definitely predominant. He finally finished taking Ian's jeans off, running his chin along his lad's legs as he pulled them down.  
  
Ian purred at the tickle of Quinn's whiskers against his leg hairs. "You're still spoiling me," he said happily.  
  
"Never gonna stop, lad." Quinn got to his knees, drinking in the familiar skinscape that always held new surprises for him. Ian's hand went for his zipper, but Quinn pushed it away. "Just lie back, love." He stretched to reach the lube in its nightstand drawer, then saw his husband's eyes widen when he made no move to take off his clothes.  
  
Ian felt his cock stirring again at the magnificent vision above him. Blue eyes darkened to indigo. Sweat stains darkened the heather-grey t-shirt sticking to Quinn's chest and stomach. Pre-come darkened the denim at his groin. He needed Quinn's cock *now*.  
  
And Quinn knew it. He unzipped his jeans just as slowly as he'd undone Ian's earlier, relishing the lust in his herven's eyes as he opened them. He took his cock out of its saturated pouch and stroked it, spreading the wetness up his shaft.  
  
Ian's groan said he wanted to be the one stroking Quinn. He grinned when he smelled berries; Quinn had uncapped the lube while he'd been fixated on that glorious cock. Then he was treated to the sight of callused fingertips mixing berry gel with pre-come in slick swipes. His cock seemed to beat in time with Quinn's hand. He'd waited too long for Quinn already.  
  
Finally, Quinn's thick fingers opened him up for the taking. Ian spread his legs back with trembling hands. "C'mon, c'mon!"  
  
Pausing only to kiss the bridge of Ian's nose, a ritual never forgotten, Quinn pushed in. He tried not to hear the amazing sounds Ian was making, knowing that if he concentrated on Ian falling apart under him, he wouldn't last for a hot minute. Another thrust and he was inside. He sucked in a deep breath while he could still consider such practicalities and thought of his final exam to calm down.  
  
Ian gasped. "Mo'!"  
  
Quinn couldn't tell if Ian meant 'More!' or 'Move!', but either way he hurried to comply. He kept his thrusts hard and deep, knowing just what Ian needed after their multi-course feast. Using his height to best advantage, he kissed Ian's face, licking the moisture from around his eyes. He rammed into him again and again, jabbing his prostate into submission, and wrapped his fingers around Ian's cock just before it started to spurt.  
  
"Qui!" Ian yelled as he clamped around him, shaking and straining to kiss Quinn. His come coated their bellies with creamy heat.  
  
Quinn kissed him through the aftershocks, grunting into his mouth from Ian's sublime pressure on his cock. With a bellow, he came himself, hands slipping off the sheets as he lost it.  
  
Ian grunted, too, when all 6'4" of his husband came crashing down on him. He took shallow breaths while Quinn shuddered on top of him.  
  
As soon as he had control of his limbs again, Quinn rolled off to the side.  
  
"Wow!" said Ian, with all the breath he could muster. He ran the corner of the sheet over their cocks and bellies.  
  
Quinn's chuckle was ragged, but he was recovering fast. He brushed his palm over the frayed inseam of Ian's jeans, crumpled by his side. "Admit it. You bought these in a sex shop." His crinkles came out in full force.  
  
Ian winked. "I'd better buy another pair soon."  
  
"They won't be the same," Quinn grumbled.  
  
"I know, but these can't take much more washing. They're falling apart." Ian snorted. "But I don't need a sex shop to turn you on."  
  
"Too true," Quinn said. "You could do it in your sleep."  
  
"And I have. Remember the time you woke me up when your come splashed my cheek?" Mischievous green eyes sparkled up at Quinn.  
  
Quinn rubbed Ian's cheek with his thumb, right at that spot. "Don't know how you slept through it."  
  
Ian nodded into his touch. "Too bad I missed it."  
  
"Guess I'll just have to give you an encore someday." Quinn grabbed the jeans and ran the redolent cotton over his face.  
  
Ian grinned. "I'm looking forward to it already."  
  
"Not as much as I am, laddie," said Quinn with a wink of his own.


End file.
